Page 103 - Leather Blues

Leather Blues 91

Chuck’s chin. “Don’t let my enthusiasm sound like I’m try-
ing to use you,” he laughed, “because it’s more than using
you. If I use you, you can use me till you use me up. I swear.
My honest-to-God bottomline is all my life I’ve been waiting
to give as good as I get.”
“That’s mutual,” Chuck said. “And after Chicago, how
about California?”
“California,” Denny said. “That has a real nice ring to
it.”
“Hey,” Chuck said, “this isn’t just our late-night drugs
talking, is it?”
Denny laughed and pulled Chuck to him, leather against
leather, man-to-man, and stuck his tongue deep down his
throat. “Swallow my spit, man,” he said.
Chuck swallowed, and then thrust his own tongue into
Denny’s mouth. “Eat my spit, pard.” He served up a healthy
hawker. “And love it.”
Denny swallowed half. “Partners,” Denny said. Spit
returned.
“Brothers,” Chuck said. Spit served.
“Hermanos,” Denny said. Spit returned.
“Compadres,” Chuck said. Spit swallowed.
“Fuckbuddies,” Denny said. Spit served.
“Friends,” Chuck said. Mixed spit returned and mutu-
ally swallowed.
“In a free-for-all,” Denny said. “Free to come. Free to go.”
He pulled Chuck in hard against him. “And free to fuck.”
“Sounds sort of like we’re riding off into the sunset
together,” Chuck said.
“As long as the road’s good and mutual for us both.”
“Never rode a freeway yet that didn’t have an off ramp
when needed.” Chuck said.
Denny wrapped his legs around Chuck’s legs. Their
naked pecs touched nipple to nipple. Their cocks were grind-
ing into each other. They wrestled in muscled-arm embrace.

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